Mask and mirrors
by seasnake.756
Summary: Even admist the confusion he fights to keep his carefully made persona because it hurts to build a new one and they would never accept the real one. But how long can you strech yourself? part of the Outer and Inner series.


Ahem... I really don't know what to make of this one. I wanted to clarify (to myself) the things Cross said and this was born. Hope you like.

Disclaimer: Let's think about this for a while... what was this website dedicated to anyway? I think it was FANFICTION! amirite?

Master calls it the mask of Mana. But that's not the whole truth. It's more like a full-body armour. A shining shield that allows them to watch and not touch, allows him to love but cast them aside when the time comes.

But perhaps shield is still a word that lacks the power to describe what the Mask of Mana is. The shield of politeness is only a part of it.

In reality it is a mould.

In the confines of that mould he can shape himself to what Mana had been. Mana had always been polite to fault but even he had had his quirks. With the Mould of Mana, Allen had replicated those quirks perfectly, from the clownishly smooth dressing style to the childishness that had made him so popular at the circus.

While he hides in the mould he can fold the undesirable parts of his person into something else and if the result isn't good, he unfolds himself and does it again, differently.

And again and again, until he forgets what he was before the process started. But that's when he finds the form he was looking for and he can leave that part and repeat the whole thing again somewhere else.

(but maybe this form, too, was a failure but he can't know because those kind of things_thoughts_ are usually folded so tight that not even he can open them anymore)

It comes with a polished shield called politeness. Allen Walker has only few things in him that shine but the shield magnifies that light to unimaginable heights. It shines all around him, to every direction so that they can't see his shadow so dark it has devoured him already.

* * *

Sometimes the process causes physical pain.

Because, in order to fit into the large mould of Mana, Allen Walker has to break through a previous, smaller one.

It's called Allen Walker.

It wad been a gentle mould. Mana was the one who had ultimately created it.

And Allen had complied, so thankful that finally someone loved him, despite all his flaws. It had been easy to do. It had been the very first mould he had fitted himself into.

* * *

Parents always try to bring up their child in a some kind of a mould. They might not always realize it but it always looms right outside their thoughts. It doesn't always work and the children grow into another mould.

But there's always a mould.

* * *

Before Allen Walker, there had been Allen.

Allen hadn't been a mould. He'd been a person.

Sometimes unkind, impolite, annoying.

But there hadn't been anyone to mould him into anything, after all.

Into anything other than a street child. The very first role in his life had been that of a rat. He grew up by himself and moulded what was _him_ into a person true to himself.

* * *

Allen became Allen Walker.

He wasn't a lie.

Allen Walker turned to Allen Walker the Exorcist, essentially Mana Walker.

He was nothing else than lies. Untrue to others, untrue to himself.

* * *

He is confused when Master talks about the mask of Mana. He doesn't want to confess to himself that everything had been a lie, still wants to keep those parts folded.

So that he doesn't have to face their ultimately coming rejection when they see that Allen they all love isn't lovable at all, isn't the light they hold on to.

Isn't _good _as opposed to _evil._

* * *

Silver is a mirror. Allen is more silver than white. He isn't pure, can't even reflect things like they come.

The silver mirror has darkened like silver does, dimmed too fast in the unforgiving flow of time.

It cracked when it was placed in too large frames, reformed itself to hide the image-splitting cracks in it's surface.

But in too large frames it is thin, no longer able to hide the bloodstains it carries.

* * *

He can only hope that no one will be there to see when the mirror finally breaks, the shards force themselves through his skin and there will be silence, pausing the delicate sound the shards used to make with every heartbeat.

* * *

Silence is better when there is nobody to break it with screams.

* * *

I have a feeling this was little harsh. But I needed to get the idea out of my head. Do tell me what you think.

See ya.


End file.
